Cracking a Case, Confessions and MisConceptions
by Life-Is-For-Finding-Answers xx
Summary: Set during early S2. Solving a riddle proves harder than usual for Alex, and a night in CID forces her to reveal a 'not-so-small' secret about herself. Galex :D *Complete for now, but I'm looking to add to it!*


**Authors Note: **_Wow, another one-shot already! This popped into my head just like _A Flicker of Understanding _and so I felt compelled to write it up. Enjoy! oh, and I'm not sure about the rating - is it okay?_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Ashes to Ashes and I'm not making any money from this. I also don't own the Riddle that is used but check it out if you like them - riddles (dot) com (forward slash) all-kinds-of-riddles (forward slash) riddles (forward slash) murder-suspects-00000000319 (forward slash) 2 (forward slash) #halfwaydown Of course, I changed it slightly to fit with the story :)_

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><p><em><strong>Cracking a Case, Confessing And Creating Conceptions<strong>_

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><p>"Go on, you lot. It's late an' we need t' be on top form tomorra. Me an' Bolls'll stay to work it out."<p>

It was exactly six minutes past nine on Friday evening when Gene Hunt finally caved in and gave the team the night off.

They'd been investigating a murder of a young woman that Shaz had known from the Blitz Club and so far they had nothing. Well, apart from an encoded message left on her body. The woman's name was Clare and she was twenty-two years old. Her body had been stabbed thirteen times – after she'd been raped and held at very close proximity with a knife because there were pressure wounds on her neck. However, it was an injection of heroin that had killed her.

The note on her body was a poem or many well-known sayings that even Alex couldn't decipher.

_A girl was found murdered on Sunday morning. Her friend immediately called the police. The police questioned the friend and staff and got these alibis: The friend said she was sleeping. The Cook was cooking breakfast. The Gardener was picking vegetables. The Maid was getting the mail. The Butler was cleaning the closet. You, the police, should be able to work out who did it._

"I dunno, Bolls," Gene said, looking at the paper again, "It's gonna be a long night."

"I've got no idea how to solve it – it makes me feel useless." Alex replied, sighing with frustration.

Gene's glance shot straight up to her hazel eyes, holding her gaze for what seemed like hours. Her knees felt slightly weak and her head was reeling. Only Gene could make her feel like that. _Wait, what did you just admit to Alex? _She thought worriedly.

"Yeah, me and all – an' I 'ate feeling useless. We don't even 'ave any solid evidence t' start chasing leads." Alex watched his expression flicker towards angry and she started to look deeper at her Guv.

"We can't go on all night like this; where's the whiskey?" She smiled gently at him and went to walk towards his office.

"In the first draw an' the glasses 'r' on the top."

A few minutes later Alex returned baring gifts of alcohol and Garibaldi's and took a seat opposite Gene. Both of them were tired from the day they'd had and, as Gene had said, the lack of evidence, forensic and verbal, was very frustrating.

Alex placed her fingers over one of the autopsy photos and brought it closer to her. She examined it closely, looking specifically at the knife wounds.

"How could somebody do this? – I mean, she's almost just a child," Alex said, a note of raw emotion in her voice. The photos of the dark haired girl brought back memories of Molly – and how long it had been since Alex had received any messages from 2008.

Gene glanced up at her and saw the tears that were glistening under her eyes. Placing his fingers over hers, he looked her in the eye and said, "I know, and we will find this murderin' bastard."

"I know we will," she paused, then glanced down at their hands before speaking again, "It's just...she looks just like my little girl." Alex closed her eyes and repressed a sob. Gene looked at her properly for what seemed like the first time.

He no longer saw the ballsy, posh, mouthy tart that had invaded his kingdom just over a year ago. He didn't see an independent and very sexy woman sat before him.

No, instead Gene Hunt saw a little girl who was defenceless and vulnerable. He saw somebody who needed someone – something – to talk to or rely on. He saw an upset and afraid person sat before him. For a fleeting second he thought he saw...No – it wasn't possible.

He thought he saw Alex Price.

But that was definitely impossible. Wasn't it?

He thought deeper for a few moments. Let's say she was...it would explain perfectly why she was so desperate to save Tim and Caroline Price, and it would explain how and when she knew it was going to happen. It would also explain why she was so upset about the tape. So, if she was Alex Price, how was she here, twenty-seven years older?

The more he thought about it, the more it started to make sense. That was why she knew about IRA bomb threats not being real and when she said that she remembered things that were happening right now. Another memory popped into his head. Alex always talked about going home – and she treated this place like it was a fantasy, a delusion or a dream...just like Tyler had.

What if she really was Alex Price? What was the evidence to suggest she wasn't – apart from the fact that it wasn't possible?

From under her lashes, Alex looked up at her constant. He was always there, from the moment their lives intercepted when she was eight years old to now, when she was lonely, lost and scared.

Gene's voice snapped her from her memories, "Bolls, I know it's ridiculous, but...ya look just like Alex Price sittin' there, all depressed, like."

Her eyes snapped up and stared at him directly. He slightly rosy cheeks had paled significantly and she drew her lips into a taut line. There no way in hell that he'd believe her if she told him.

"Yeah, well," she tried a different tactic, "what made you say that?"

Gene looked down at his whiskey glass. There was no way in hell she'd believe him – _better just to leave it_, Genie boy, he thought.

"Nowt; I was just thinkin' about the poor mite; stuck in this bloody world wivout any parents. It's gonna be tough fer her."

She looked at him and smiled slowly. "But I didn't turn out so bad, did I?"

Both their eyes were dragged from the objects they were looking at. Finally realising that she'd said too much, Alex settled for widening her eyes and Gene...well, he just flicked his eyes up and down the top half of her body.

"No, yer didn't Bolls...or should that be Alex Price?"

"You wouldn't believe me – and it doesn't even make any sense unless I'm sober anyway."

"I'm holdin' ya t' that – ya will tell me."

Rolling her eyes slightly drunkenly, Alex asked, "what about the Gene-Genie? –Anything interesting in your life apart from having two time travelling Detective Inspectors?"

Gene noted the sarcasm in her question but filed the last piece of information away for further examination. "Nah, not really."

Alex, although she looked fairly drunk, was actually quite sober, and she noticed his response was too quick, too rehearsed. "You don't get away that easily. I'm a psychologist, remember? There must be something...family? Sam told me you had a brother."

His expression hardened. "Yeah an' the operative word was 'had'. 'E died just before I joined the force; that made me wanna clear the scum off the streets even more. Me dad was actually okay...until I left home. Then 'e started t' get into gambling, drugs and booze. Me ma moved in wiv me eventually. He still found her tho' an' dragged her back. They both died in a bastard-ing 'ouse fire in seventy-six. I know it would 'appen one day."

Alex sat in a stunned silence. It was the longest piece of speech she'd ever heard him give and the psychologist in her thought that she was the only person who knew, too. The most surprising thing was that Sam hadn't actually told her about Gene's family back in 2006; it was a complete stab in the dark.

"Bolls, yer turn." She threw him a puzzled look, "its yer turn to tell me about Alex Price. I want the truth – you're sober enough."

Swallowing nervously, she leant forward over the desk and looked him the eye before starting her story.

"When I was eight years old, my parents were killed in a car explosion at ten o'clock on tenth of November nineteen eighty one. On twentieth July two thousand and eight, I was taken hostage by one Arthur Layton, who claimed that he knew how my parents died. I know there was a reason I hated David Bowie's Ashes to Ashes..."

And so her twisting tale of deception and dreams continued into the late hours of the night and the early morning.

Six hours, three bottles of whiskey and a lot of talking later, Gene and Alex found themselves drifting off to sleep. Their chairs had moved so they were side by side Gene was leant back with his turned facing Alex. She was led on her side with her arm flung passively over his waist and her hand placed gently over his chest. His right arm was place around her shoulders.

The peacefulness that had settled over the office was not ready to be disturbed just two hours later by a racket of fellow CID officers.

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><p>"Bloody Nora!" Ray exclaimed as he walked into CID. "Looks like there was some fun here last night!"<p>

Shaz hit him on the arm, "shut, up! They'll hear you."

Chris glanced from left to right, from Ray to Shaz, "yeah, mate; have some respect, like."

"Poof," was the only response they received as the trio walked off to their desks, awaiting the bollocking they were about to get.

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><p>"You do know that they think we're shagging in here, don't you?" Alex enquired, a guilty look consuming her face and lust tinting her eyes.<p>

"Well then, Bolls; should we give 'em something t' talk about?" His eyes flashed with desire as he smirked at her.

"Hmmm..." she raised her head to look at him straight in the eye, but dropped her gaze to her entwined fingers.

Remaining professional, and because he saw Viv approaching the office, he stepped slightly closer to her and said loudly, "Yes, Drakey we will eventually work this out – without your psych – babble, ta muchly."

But Alex wasn't having any of it; she'd seen the glint in his eyes – and it still lingered there.

Alex dropped her hand from his chest and leant seductively forwards to whisper in his ear. "It's the maid – there is no mail on Sunday."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Well, then – what d'ya think? :) Actually, don't answer that – it was pretty rubbish! My excuse – practising some Galex :P_

Finding Answers xx


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